


Bitten

by periphrasis



Category: IDOLiSH7 (Video Game)
Genre: Hand Jobs, M/M, Marking, Vampire Roleplay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-01
Updated: 2019-04-01
Packaged: 2019-12-30 10:41:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,037
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18313865
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/periphrasis/pseuds/periphrasis
Summary: Sougo and Tamaki could have a mature discussion about their mutual interest, or Tamaki could just bite him until he figures out he likes him.





	Bitten

The door hardly makes a noise as it opens.  There’s no knock. 

“Sou-chan.”  Tamaki clearly thinks he is being quiet.  

It’s... midnight, at least.  Later, maybe. Sougo has been laying awake for a long time, his thoughts unwilling to quiet enough for sleep, but he’s been assuming he was the only one up.  

The hall light frames him all chiaroscuro in the doorway, makes the angles of his face dramatic.  Tamaki’s dressed--and dressed nicer than he ever does for hanging around at home. Black vest over a crisp dress shirt the color of good wine.  His hair is still a mess. “Sou-chan,” he says, again, low but insistent. “I’m so hungry.”

His teeth are so white.

Sougo turns over so that he’s faced away from the door, buries his face in his pillow.  “There’s pudding in the fridge.”

“I don’t want pudding.”  Petulant. The door closes, but Sougo can hear Tamaki slipping into the room before it latches.  “Sou-chan tastes better.”

Sougo’s chest tightens.  Danger. This is dangerous.  And probably wrong. On so many levels, wrong.

In the light of day, he would not admit that he wanted it.

Now, he turns over and pushes the covers aside, for the fully-dressed Tamaki to climb into bed with him.  Dark as it is, there’s surprisingly little fumbling, as though Tamaki might find his way only by the thrilling pulse of Sougo’s heart.

Tamaki’s mouth is on his throat.  Teeth.

“No.”  The word escapes Sougo’s lips, even as he can feel himself responding.

And then Tamaki jerks away, as though he’s been burned.  He fumbles for the bedside light. When it snaps on, he’s sitting there, looking worried.  Looking young. Like someone else has dressed him up. “You don’t like it?”

\---

It had started with some magazine’s bright idea that what they needed was all of Idolish7 done up as Western monsters.  Some of those things were more involved than others--they’d made Yamato into a werewolf and it had taken all morning. Sougo had been made up pale and luminous, and in the final picture he was actually translucent.  Haunting.

The pictures had turned out to be surprisingly popular.

Near the end of the day, they’d gotten Tamaki into a classic Dracula getup, with a starched collar and fangs and a cape, and discovered that he looked like a little kid playing dress-up.

“Imagine yourself as a predator.  Powerful. You’ve got this pretty girl cornered and you’re about to have your way with her.”  The photographer clearly thought this is something any of them should respond to. He was fortyish.  By the afternoon, the boys, without having discussed it, had already started running interference to keep him from any more attempts at bothering Tsumugi.  He was a good photographer; probably not a good anything else.

“That doesn’t really seem nice.”  Tamaki was mumbling, even though the tooth caps really shouldn’t be troublesome.  “Drinking blood would be gross, wouldn’t it?”

“Not to a vampire.”  Sougo was back in his street clothes by then, feels a bit incongruous sitting down beside Dracula.  “Think if you knew that this person sitting right next to you would taste like a King Pudding if you just bit them, and you hadn’t had any in--weeks, even.”  And Sougo had, for some reason, tipped his head, put his hand to his throat, presented his own neck as though by example.

Tamaki lunged for him.  Stopped only when Sougo could feel those pointed caps against his skin.

“Yes, exactly,” said the photographer they’d both forgotten in that moment, and Sougo had hurried to disengage.  Tamaki hadn’t been looking at the camera, in those photos. He’d been looking at Sougo, standing a bit to the side, his heart still pounding.

He looks hungry, in the finished photo spread.  He looks like a monster you might want in your bedroom at night.

In the days after that, every now and then, Tamaki would make a joke about how he wanted a snack, say, and make as if he was going to bite Sougo again. A game.  But a game where even Tamaki seemed to know that his mouth could only make contact if they were alone.

\---

“You don’t like it?”

Sougo finds himself reaching for the light, now, too, to shut it back off again.  “You’re supposed to be a vampire,” he hisses. “Since when do vampires take no for an answer?”

“Can we put the light back on, at least?”

“You didn’t mind the dark a second ago.”

“Only because I was thinking about--”  Tamaki stops short.

“How hungry you are?”  Sougo prompts him, trying to keep his voice quiet, trying to be gentle, trying not to scream with the frustration at the continued distance.

He could just say it, out loud, put it into words what he wants, but when he pictures that, he can only imagine Tamaki’s face looking back at him with shock and confusion.  Instead, he reaches out, curls his fingers into Tamaki’s shirt, and pulls him close again.

Tamaki climbs over him, takes that wrist, and uses it to pin him to the bed.  His mouth finds the same place as before, and the skin there is tender already, but then he’s digging in with his teeth, hard enough to bruise.

They will regret this in the morning.  In the moment? 

“Don’t,” Sougo murmurs.  The protest is gratifyingly ignored.  He rests his free hand on the back of Tamaki’s head, strokes his hair, and Tamaki seems to take that as encouragement.

Every other time, a few minutes of the vampire game has been followed by one or the other of them hastily breaking it off.  Sougo knew it had to have an impact on Tamaki, but it was okay that they weren’t ready for that, okay that he had to take care of himself privately in the bathroom or in his bedroom, afterwards.  This time, though, this time Tamaki is pressing down against him, grinding against his hip, and Sougo can feel it.

He twists under Tamaki, parts his legs so that Tamaki can settle between them, so that the next time he does it, the only thing separating them are too many layers of clothing.  The friction and the pressure are almost unbearable. The awareness... the knowing that now Tamaki can feel his erection, too.

No more teeth.  Tamaki is breathing hard against his neck.  When he bears down again, Sougo moves to meet him, and it is the best thing he’s ever felt, at the same time as it’s absolute torture.

Offer him your hand.  Your mouth. Say something, out loud, make it real.

The sounds that Sougo’s mouth actually makes are not words.

“Sou-chan.”  Tamaki’s voice is tight.  Tense. He stops moving, which provides no relief at all, and pulls back, which is actually painful.

Button.  Zipper. It takes a moment for Sougo’s ears to parse what Tamaki is actually doing.  He realizes what the sounds are only in retrospect, once he feels a hand pushing up his pajamas, and then the soft warmth of it pressed against his bare stomach.

Sougo reaches down to take it carefully in his hand.  Like it’s going to be different, when it’s somebody else’s dick.  It is different, somehow. Alien but familiar, in the dark. He gets a firmer grip, and Tamaki makes a noise that sounds so much like pain that Sougo almost lets go.  Almost.

Warm wetness across his skin, then all over his hand.

“Sorry.  I’m sorry.  I’m--”

“Stupid.  Good boy. Kiss me.  Idiot.”

Lips.  Tongue.  They’re almost too distracting for Sougo to finish pushing his pajama pants down, but he manages it.

For an idiot, Tamaki is surprisingly quick to figure out what he’s supposed to be doing with his hand, and it’s exquisite.  Years of porn and X-rated fantasies about the various (and sometimes collective) members of various idol groups cannot begin to compare to one real hand.  

It isn’t as quick for Sougo, but there’s no sign of impatience.  He almost doesn’t want to finish, as if he might be able to stretch the feeling out forever--but then it starts to feel like it really has been forever, even if it’s only a few minutes. Tamaki is kissing his neck again. Sougo grasps at him, panting, writhing, until it’s too much.

He lays back, heaving for breath, wondering how you can tell if you’ve gone blind if the lights are out.

Wet noises.  Tamaki is licking his fingers, Sougo realizes.  Obscene. Sougo pulls him closer, finds his mouth, kisses him again and can taste it.

He’s just going to close his eyes for a second, he tells himself.  Just for a second, and then he’ll do something to clean up and make Tamaki go back to his room and then they’ll figure everything out in the morning.  Just a second, with Tamaki cuddling up next to him, to close his eyes and get the energy together.

Just a second.

\---

It’s light already when there’s a rap of a knuckle on the door.  Tap, tap, tap. Sougo has snoozed his is alarm, at some point, is laying there still three-quarters asleep.  

Tap, tap.

“What?”

“I know you’re not due anywhere for a few hours, but if you could help me get Tamaki off to class, I would appreciate it.”  Iori’s voice, on the other side of the door, and then footsteps heading away.

The mattress shifts.  “--time is it?” comes the sleepy half of a question.

Sougo is suddenly very, very awake.  “Late,” he hisses, hauling himself out of bed.  “I thought you were going to bed.”

“I was already in bed.  Getting out of bed just to go to bed seemed dumb.”

Tamaki’s pants came off at some point; Sougo retrieves them from the floor and throws them back at the boy while he’s still rubbing his eyes, then starts hunting around in his own closet for a turtleneck.  “They’re going to find out, now.”

“So?”  Tamaki does at least get out from under the blankets enough to get his pants on, a process Sougo finds really distracting.

In a better world, this should have been the time for lazing around in bed and going for another round.  

In a world where he hadn’t decided to hook up with a high school student.  

“Go get a shower and get your uniform on and we’ll talk about it later.  Don’t let anybody see you.” Sougo opens the door a crack to check if anybody’s in the hallway, but no; all the voices seem to be coming from the kitchen and the living room.

Safe.  Maybe they’re safe.  Tamaki makes a hasty exit to the bathroom.  Sougo heads into Tamaki’s room, decides to ignore the fact that the door is standing open and the bed is clearly not slept-in, and gets his uniform for him.  He leaves it just inside the bathroom door, then starts to head back to his own room.

Iori, standing there in the hall in his own uniform, just looks at him.

“I got him up.  It’s fine,” says Sougo.  His cheeks are burning. He can feel it.

“Of course,” says Iori.  And glances in the direction of Tamaki’s room.  He doesn’t have to do more than glance.

“He had a bad dream,” is all Sougo can think to say.  “The vampire business. Too sensitive for that sort of thing, I think.”

“Well, if he’s going to have bad dreams, maybe you can just make sure to set an extra alarm, and it won’t be any trouble.  It won’t be any trouble, will it?”

Sougo feels transparent, now, as the magazine picture.  More so. Completely see-through. “No. Of course not.”

“Great.  I didn’t think so.”  And then Iori is gone.

“Sou-chan.  I want breakfast.  Are you breakfast?”  Tamaki comes up behind him, starts to lean in, draws back again.  “I don’t like this shirt.” He picks at the high neck with a fingertip, peeks under it.

“Then maybe next time stick to somewhere less visible,” Sougo whispers.  Even the whisper is a risk. Even more of a risk, kissing Tamaki on the mouth there in the hall.  Maybe stupidity is catching. “If you hurry, you still have time to get toast.”

**Author's Note:**

> Somehow accidentally produced just in time for Tamaki's birthday. I'm not even supposed to like idol anime, I don't know how I got so attached to these boys, but here we are. This concept started as involving actual vampires, but somehow I liked this better.


End file.
